


A Rush of Inspiration

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Painting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 17:46:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9777002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)





	

“Everything’s ready,” you said, ensuring you had all the material you needed for your painting session. Spencer had just taken you out for lunch and a walk in the park. The dancing leaves of varying colors fluttered all around you as you floated near the lake, suddenly feeling a rush of inspiration. As you left the park hand-in-hand, you’d mentioned that sometime soon you wanted to go out and grab some craft supplies. You hadn’t painted in a while, but the beauty surrounding you had been inspiring, but you needed everything - new paints, brushes, a canvas and some tarp. The easel was still sitting in your apartment, so that you don’t need. Spencer insisted you not wait and take advantage of the inspiration while you had it, so as soon as you left the park, you went to pick up what you needed.

After fumbling up the stairs with a large canvas, paints, tarp and brushes, you started setting up in the corner of the room. There were no other plans for either of you today, so while you set up, Spencer flopped down on the couch. “You’re gorgeous when you’re full of inspiration,” he said as you ran to the opposite side of the room to grab the easel.

As you spun around the room, easel in hand, you laughed. “What, I’m not always gorgeous?”

“Of course you are.” When you motioned for them, he threw the bag of paints and brushes your way, catching it with her free hand - the other occupied by the canvas. “But there is something otherworldly about you when you’re struck with inspiration.”

Once everything was set up, you ran to your bedroom to put on the rattiest clothes you had. You returned in an already paint-stained pair of yoga pants, crappy mismatched socks and an old band t-shirt that had holes in it. It was the perfect outfit for paint. The palette you’d used the last time you painted was still in with the supplies you could still use, so you pulled it out and dabbed a bit of each color you needed. There were a lot of them, but you knew they wouldn’t go to waste. Cobra water mixable oil colors; they were your favorite. No need for turpentine, plus the texture and color didn’t change after the paint dried. 

Varying shades of reds, oranges, a ton of yellows and a little bit of brown, black and white decorated the palette before you, and as you looked ahead - the blank canvas called to you. It was actually a little intimidating considering you hadn’t painted in so long. “Just breathe,” Spencer said from the couch. “Close your eyes and imagine what you want to paint. If you just stare at a blank canvas, you’ll panic.” He really did know you too well. After so many years together, he knew your every look and fear - and how to combat them. 

With a deep breath, you closed your eyes, imaging what you wanted to paint. Behind your eyes, you saw the trees change color, largely yellow with some orange and red radiating out toward the corners. The trees lined a path and there were subtle tufts of grass that made their way through the leaves. A full picture now in your mind, your eyes fluttered open and you started at the top right corner with an array of reds. “God, I forgot how good this felt,” you said, making light strokes with a small brush.

“And I forgot how much I loved watching you paint,” Spencer said in the background. He knew how you got when you painted, off in another world with his voice as the only music in your ears. For hours upon hours, you went into a trance, the picture coming to life before you. Although it was a picture of trees on a path, the colors swirled together like a sea full of crashing waves.

With just one corner left, the corner comprised of mainly tree trunks, you started to grow tired, yawning as you realized how hungry you were. “You really should eat something,” Spencer said from behind you. In your painting stupor, you hadn’t realized how much time had passed and how little you’d eaten all day. The sun was down and you hadn’t eaten in nearly ten hours. Damn. You’d been painting for nearly ten hours.

“Dinner?” he asked, motioning back toward the table. 

“Was I really out that long?” you laughed. Sure, you went into a trance when you painted, but damn, that had been a long one. All worth it though, you thought, when you looked at the painting. You hadn’t even noticed that Spencer had cooked for you.

“What else have you been doing all day?” you asked, wiping the sweat off your brow as you sat down at the table. He’d made pasta and meatballs with ricotta and mozzarella. He even put out wine. Your favorite kind of red.

“Between making dinner and watching you lose yourself in painting, not much,” he laughed, coming over to your end of the table to plant a kiss on your paint-stained face. “But it was worth it. You’re painting looks amazing and you there is a light in your eyes that I haven’t seen since you lasted painted.”

“Thanks, babe,” you said, looking back toward the mess of paint, brushes, water and tarp. “It feels really nice to be painting again.”

“It’s nice to see your work again,” he smiled. “Just make sure you keep the fire going.”


End file.
